


foolishly, completely falling (for you)

by tsurakutemo



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurakutemo/pseuds/tsurakutemo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Michael pines a lot, Harry's clueless, and everybody else thinks they both just need to get their shit together and kiss.</p>
<p>And then they do and everything is sappy and made of sparkles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	foolishly, completely falling (for you)

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies in advance for any mistakes regarding facts/tour dates/anything. I started making things up from the US leg part and onwards because... well, that's obviously in the future, and if they do come true I'm going to go make myself famous as a psychic.
> 
> I also assumed Michael is shorter than Harry but I honestly have no idea. I googled, found nothing. Asked him on twitter how tall he is, he didn't answer. I'm still miffed about that.
> 
> I didn't tag this with "underage" because in Australia, the age of consent is 16/17 (with the exception of Queensland, where the age of consent for anal sex in particular is 18)

Michael Clifford does not pine.

He _doesn't_ , no matter how many times Calum says the contrary. He just likes to think of Harry and how good he is and how perfect and amazing and nice he is. He thinks that Harry might be the second coming of Christ. Calum thinks Michael has lost it.

He doesn't know when this ridiculous crush started – before they started touring, possibly, and definitely before their fourth show – but the point is that it happened fast and went completely out of Michael's control. He doesn't want to have it, because it's not like he can go around declaring “I have an awful, awful crush on Harry Styles, nineteen, from Holmes Chapel in Cheshire”, but at the same time... it's kind of nice. There's this little fuzzy feeling in his gut when he looks at Harry, one that warms him from the inside every time Harry smiles at him, and it's just lovely.

Until reality brings him back in and Harry's rumoured to be dating Denise Welch or something and Harry's not looking at him like Michael wants him to be. Sure, he smiles at him, they horse around and collapse on couches together to play some FIFA, but they don't– they don't _cuddle_ like Michael wants them to. Harry's the biggest cuddleslut he's ever met, but it's not _special_. He cuddles Michael just like he cuddles Louis or Liam, and that's not what he wants. He wants Harry to look at him and quirk his lip up and tell him that he likes him a lot.

Michael sometimes realises that he's rather selfish, but he has a dumb crush and no one else is helping any. He doesn't think anyone other than Calum knows, though, so that might be why.

“Where're your thoughts at?” Harry asks suddenly, and Michael jumps. He looks at the screen and realises his team lost three-zero to Harry's, and sighs, putting the controller away.

“I'm sorry, I'm sleepy,” he replies and grins winningly. Harry just laughs and ruffles his hair, before touching a finger to his neck, right over the lovebite he gave Michael earlier. Michael's breath hitches, but he hopes his smile doesn't waver too much, and quickly bites at Harry's fingers to keep him from noticing.

“That's not very nice, giving me that,” he says. “You're going to get me into a lot of trouble.”

“Eh.” Harry waves it off like it's of no concern. Perhaps it isn't, not to him, not when he's received probably hundreds of lovebites from his bandmates, and Michael struggles not to pout. Life is really unfair.

“We should get going, anyway,” Harry continues as he stands, “to find the others. They're probably done being crazy people soon enough.”

Michael nods, but doesn't really make a movement to get up. Rather, he stretches out along the couch and sighs, pleased. Harry laughs again, voice further away now.

“Alright, I see how it is. We'll get you before we leave, then.”

Michael waves him off and tries not to focus on him anymore. He really _is_ sleepy, and he tries to focus on counting sheep instead of thinking of Harry. He ends up dreaming about Harry jumping over fences with his ridiculously long legs and his ridiculously wild curls and his ridiculous everything, and is jolted out of it only when someone shakes his shoulder.

“Whazzat?” he mumbles blearily, blinking up and squinting at the too sharp lights. There's an odd taste in his mouth and he grimaces.

“Time to get up,” Harry replies, voice lowered. “We're gonna leave now.”

“Yeah, Mikey, get up!” Ashton shouts, and Michael cringes at his voice. Why does he have to be so loud? Harry smiles at him, pats his shoulder, and disappears from sight.

When he sits up, the first person's gaze he meets is Louis'. Louis looks sympathetic, but Michael resolutely looks away from him and pretends he doesn't know why.

 

 

They go back and forth between cities in the UK and the rush is magnificent, but there's always something _lacking_. They spend enough time apart that Michael realises why, but he doesn't want to because he knows the distance makes him pine. And he doesn't pine, for goodness sake.

“You do,” Calum tells him helpfully. Michael knows he said that out loud and regrets it immediately.

“Seriously, Mikey,” his supposed best friend, even if he's being awfully mean, continues, “you should just tell him.”

“What _do_ I tell him?” Michael retorts. “'Hi I really fancy you let's get together and do couple-y stuff'? I don't think so.”

“Well, why not, then?” Calum looks at him, and he's frowning, which is never a good sign. “The UK leg's almost over, and then you won't see him until we get to America.”

“Because I'm almost two years younger than him,” Michael says. “And he's– he's really nice and cool and I'm not.”

Calum sighs and pats his knee. “Listen, you,” he says. “I'm not the greatest at these kind of things, but I do know that if you tell him there's a good chance he might like you back, and then you can be sickeningly adorable together. It won't matter to him what you're like, honestly. You're you, and he likes it when people are being themselves.”

“You're just taking that from interviews,” Michael sulks.

“Yeah, but also from seeing how he treats people. I think he could be good for you, because at least you'll stop being all... mopey.” He gestures widely with his arms. “Honestly, you should just kiss and be done with it.”

“And what if I tell him, and he's completely freaked out? He might not like me in the slightest, and then we're done for. He'll probably get us kicked off and get that lady person keep opening for them.”

“I don't think that's her name,” Calum says, but Michael glares and he holds up his hands. “Fine, fine, I know. I understand that you're scared, but... it's better to tell him and get rejected than keep thinking 'what if this' and 'what if that'. You've got nothing to lose.”

“I've got a lot to lose,” Michael protests, but then he sighs. “Maybe. I'll think about it. And you will still not tell anyone, right?”

“Course I won't,” Calum says and looks downright offended. “What am I, a bad friend? But I think they're starting to realise, anyway, you're so obvious when you look at him.”

“I'm not!”

“Are too.”

Calum's eyebrows draw together as if he's challenging him to protest, but Michael knows he's right deep down and therefore doesn't.

“Hug?” he asks instead, and gets one, but it's not as satisfactory as it could be if it were someone else.

 

 

They prank the One Direction boys at their last show in Manchester and it's funny until it's not. It's funny until Harry thinks it's a great idea to change the lyrics into “and let Michael kiss you” and suddenly he feels a little empty and a little resentful and he's thinking things like _yes, maybe you should let me kiss you_ and he wants to do it, wants to walk over and plant one right on him, but he doesn't.

Instead he laughs a little and takes some space from him, but Harry's right there moments later, slinging an arm around his shoulders and getting him to sing along.

Michael forgets all about it towards the end with fans screaming loud enough that his eardrum almost bursts, and all thirteen of them, including the actual proper band, spend some time together celebrating that the UK part is over and they'll soon take on the world. Except 5 Seconds of Summer won't for some reason, won't be travelling around Europe with them. It makes them all sad, that they won't see them for weeks, but Michael knows it's going to be alright. One Direction has approximately a week off before they go, and Michael's bubbling with happiness when he leans into Harry, who's sitting next to him. Harry grins at him and tightens his arm around him for a moment, and it feels so _right_.

“What are you doing during your break?” he asks and tries to keep his voice neutral. Harry contemplates for a moment, but looks undecided when he answers.

“Going home for a bit,” he says. “Then I'm probably going to LA for a few days again, Cal invited me and I think it'll be nice.”

“Oh,” Michael nods, even if he's– he's not sad, he's just a little disappointed. That's really all there is.

“Why?” Harry asks, frowning a little. “You alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” Michael forces a grin. “I was just curious. It'll be nice, seeing someone else for a bit, won't it?”

“Yeah, it will.” Harry sighs, but there's a small smile there, almost wistful. “I'll miss the lads though.”

Michael opens his mouth, is just about to ask _will you miss me?_ But then Niall's there, draping himself over them, chattering with Luke who's across the room, so Michael bites his tongue and bears it out.

 

 

The week before the European leg goes by at a snail's pace and Michael's driving himself and everybody else up a wall.

“What is up with you, seriously?” Luke asks, as he does his tenth round of walking around the flat in an hour.

Michael whirls around, begins to answer, and promptly snaps his mouth shut. No. He will not drag anyone else in so they'll pester him into kissing Harry like it's just that easy. It's not. It's difficult because whenever he thinks of it, and remembers a moment where Harry had his entire attention on him, he starts floundering like a baboon. Cal just laughs at him. He doesn't want Luke or Ash to do the same.

“Nothing,” he says at last and considers briefly to collapse on the floor. He's acting like someone who got their heart broken, but he hasn't in the slightest. His heart is quite fine, even if he wishes it would stop beating so fast whenever he thinks about curls and dumb tattoos.

Luke eyes him up and down like he's hiding something, and while Michael is he doesn't want to tell him.

“Has this got something to do with whatever it is Cal pesters you with?”

Michael opens his mouth, pauses, then shuts it again. “No,” he says eventually, but there is absolutely no force in his voice and he sort of deflates.

“I'm being an idiot.”

“Clearly.”

Luke eyes him for another moment, before he sighs and pats the spot next to him. “Come on, then. Come tell uncle Hemmo what's the matter.”

“Don't ever call yourself that again,” Michael says, a little disgusted, but he moves into the spot anyway and pulls his legs up to his chest.

“'s just. Is it weird to have a crush on someone you've only known for a little while?”

Luke is silent for a while as he considers.

“I don't think so,” he says eventually, “not if it's a serious crush. Is it a serious crush?”

“Yeah,” Michael answers. “On my part. I don't think he crushes on me in return.”

“If he doesn't, he will. Harry loves everyone.”

“Yeah, but everyone's not- hey.” He narrows his eyes at him. “Who said it's Harry?”

“You just did,” Luke replies and grins at him. “No, but honest. People can see it all the way from the moon. Just 'cos they don't say anything, doesn't mean it's not noticeable. You look like he hung up the moon and stars sometimes.”

Michael wants to protest, but he supposes it's true. “Does he look at me like that, too?”

Luke hesitates, just a bit. “I'm not sure. I think he's fond of you?”

“You're not helpful.” Michael grumbles and sinks further down in the couch. “At all.”

“I'm doing my best,” Luke replies. “I'm not Obi-Wan. You would be better off asking one of his bandmates. Louis, maybe. Has Calum told you to just kiss him yet?”

“About a hundred times. I can't just do that, though, he might be disgusted.”

Luke actually snorts at him like what he just said is completely off the hook. Michael feels a little offended.

 

 

He doesn't get to talk to Harry before the European leg starts, because Harry only gets to Paris with hours to spare or something and Michael's back to climbing the walls. The other three, all now in on his secret (“it's not a secret when everybody knows,” Ash says, but what does Ash know), rope him into writing songs and learning every possible cover they can play on his guitar. It helps a little, honestly, and he doesn't think about Harry as much as he could. He still checks twitter, tumblr and facebook obsessively, but that's honestly got nothing to do with anyone else, thank you very much.

“It's not healthy,” Calum tells him firmly, but Michael already knows that. Still, though.

He tweets Harry a few times, and even if he gets about 1/3 of those tweets replied, then it doesn't matter. Harry's busy. He's far away, off conquering teenage hearts. Michael just thinks it's a little bit funny that when they were only meters away from each other they could tweet each other like crazy, and now, when they're miles and miles and miles away, they barely tweet each other at all. Michael's not upset. He doesn't miss Harry's hugs, or his smiles. Harry's an idiot. He doesn't even know why he crushes on him.

“Are you sure it's just a crush?” Ashton asks.

Michael frowns. “What else would it be?”

“With how you're sighing like you're a fourteen year old girl creaming your panties?” Luke asks flatly. “Sounds to me like you like him far beyond a crush.”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Michael says. He looks down at his doodles of Harry's name all over the lyric sheets and groans.

“I'm pining, aren't I?”

Calum heaves a dramatic sigh.

 

 

More weeks pass, and Michael really wishes that meant his feelings for Harry would lessen, but they don't. In fact, they just intensify, with every clip or picture he sees. They text a bit back and forth, and Calum threatens to take his phone away because he just about has an aneurysm every time it makes a sound.

“You don't understand,” Michael says, keeping his eyes on his phone. “If I miss a text and don't answer until late he might think I hate him.”

“Oh for god's sake,” Calum snaps at him. “He's not that dependable on you.”

Michael pauses and looks at him. “I know that,” he mutters, trying to hide that he's a little hurt. He knows Calum doesn't really mean it like that, but it's part of the niggling worry in the back of his mind that he always tries to keep back and hidden, so to have it shoved in his face like that makes him feel a little sad. Calum notices, of course he does, and he sighs and squeezes his knee.

“Look,” he begins, then hesitates. “I'm just worried for you, okay? I don't want you to get hurt.”

“You've been saying to kiss him all this time, though,” Michael points out. “To tell him and not fear anything. What changed?”

“Nothing changed, it's just that if Harry doesn't like you back, or doesn't treat you well if he does – in which I'll castrate him, by the way – then you'll be sad. And I don't want that.”

“I'm glad you don't,” Michael replies and smiles just a little. “But he wouldn't do that if he does like me.”

He hesitates and looks up at him, considering for a moment. “D'you think he does?”

Calum smiles back at him. “I don't want to get your hopes up just in case, but from what I've heard, I think he kind of does. According to Louis, anyway, who says he lights up like a Christmas tree every time you talk to him and that he won't shut up about you sometimes.”

Michael breaks out into a grin. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Calum nods. “Louis agrees with me that you're both kind of ridiculous, though you're the worst by far.”

Michael frowns at him.

“I don't know why I'm friends with you.”

“It's my winning wit and fantastic charm.” is Calum's reply. Michael supposes it's not that far off.

 

 

They fly on over to America and it's quite incredible to find themselves across the pond – again. It starts off in Mexico and, because it's June, it's really fucking hot. Michael's sweating buckets as they get off stage after opening up the concert, and he's too busy trying not to drip all over the floor to quite catch the water bottle thrown his way. It bounces off his shoulder instead of his head, which he supposes he should be thankful for, but he's slightly miffed as he bends and picks it up.

“Sorry,” a voice drawls, sounding fond, and Michael glances up quickly. Harry smiles at him and Michael finds himself beaming in return. They hadn't been able to say hello much before, and don't now either, technically, but at least he can speak to him a little.

“Hi! I mean, it's okay. It didn't hurt. Um.”

Harry laughs and hugs him, and Michael grimaces. “I'm sweaty!”

“And I will be too in like, a few minutes,” Harry replies and ruffles his hair. “'s it not okay to hug you?”

“Oh, it's okay,” Michael replies quickly. “Any time you want.”

Harry grins. “Good, I might take you up on that.” He squeezes his shoulder, but then voices are calling them on stage, and he hurries after Liam with a wave at Michael.

Louis moves past him, but leans in really quickly before he goes on. “Get it,” he whispers, smirking, and Michael just _stares_ after him like he's lost his head. They're all bloody lunatics, this lot.

They wait backstage as the concert goes on, sees them briefly during costume changes, and Michael finds himself anticipating the time it's done. Finally they're finished singing 'What Makes You Beautiful' and a few minutes later they're trotting off stage, tired and sweaty, but happy. Michael moves quickly before he can change his mind and catches Harry in a hug.

“That was great!”

Harry looks momentarily startled, but then he beams and hugs him back, laughing. “It was, wasn't it? Thought I was going to pass out or something out there though.”

Feeling cheeky, Michael grins. “I would've given you mouth to mouth.”

Right after that, he feels like slapping himself silly, because Harry stares at him for a moment. Michael pales, just a little bit, anxiety starting to build in his gut, but then Harry's lip twitches before he barks out a laugh. “My hero,” he teases, and Michael tries not to blush too hard or smile too wide. Over Harry's shoulder, Louis is giving him a thumbs up. He doesn't quite know what that means.

 

He tries to build courage as they move from Mexico to Florida and over to Kentucky, hugging him more and spending more time with him and just trying to get closer. Harry doesn't seem to mind, at least, welcomes every touch and every conversation. If Michael could, he would be fluffing up like a pleased bird, but he can't so he just keeps that little happy, fuzzy feeling inside him. He still doesn't think Harry treats him differently from the rest, but he doesn't actually know if that's a thing he would do in the first place. It's a little confusing. They have a day off between Kentucky and Ohio, a day spent travelling across states, and Michael spends almost the entire trip when he's not eating, sleeping or using the bathroom to text Harry. Luke and Ashton make kissy faces every time Harry replies him, but Michael chooses to ignore them for the most part.

One Direction's tour bus is just in front of theirs, but it still feels like it's miles away, and he looks down at the text Harry sent him, pondering an answer.

_the boys are being ridiculous. are yours the same?_

He fiddles with the keys as he waits, throws a pillow at Luke when he isn't looking and grinning as he ducks away from the retaliation.

_always, haha. what are they doing? x_

It's kind of fascinating how Harry always leaves kisses in his texts. It's very _Harry_ -like and Michael smiles.

_teasing me. making kissy faces, think they think I'm in love with you._

It's brazen of him, and while he's not in love with Harry, he knows it's not actually that far off.

_everyone's in love with me. means more if it's you, though x_

_how come?_

Michael's fingers shake just slightly, and he hates how much he anticipates Harry's answer.

_someone told me you have a crush_

There's no kiss this time, but Michael hardly notices because he's too busy dropping his phone to the floor and wondering if he read that right or not.

“Mikey?” Calum asks, sounding concerned, and picks up the phone. “What's wrong? You alright?”

“I'm okay,” Michael says, feeling a little like he's far away. “I. The texts. Was it you?”

Calum frowns and checks, and his eyes go wide.

“No, it wasn't me, I promise. But whoever it was... this is a good development!”

“How is it good?” Michael protests, and he thinks he may be panicking a little bit. “He sounds angry. What if he's angry? What if he hates me? How can anyone tell him I have a crush on him, that's not fair!”

“Michael, you're overreacting,” Luke says and tries to calm him down, putting his hands on his shoulders. “I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is.”

Calum nods as he puts the phone back in his hand. “Go on, answer him, before he thinks you passed out or something.”

“I wish,” Michael mutters, but he taps out a reply anyway and promptly shoves it back into Cal's hands, covering his face.

_and if I do? would you be angry?_

Minutes pass, and Michael grows more and more anxious. He thinks he might need to throw up soon, but then it goes off and he motions for Calum to read it out. Calum refuses, however, and hands it back, and the three of them gather around as Michael reads the reply silently.

_not angry. flattered, though. can you call? still hours until we reach Columbus, and we need to talk, I think. x_

Michael thinks for a long time. He wants to talk to him, of course he does, but he's also slightly terrified. Harry's flattered. Flattered that Michael has a crush on him. But that doesn't mean he likes him back. What if he just wants to talk to say he's sorry but he doesn't like Michael that way, doesn't like boys that way. What if he starts staying away from him, and is freaked out?

_can we wait? battery's low, and my charger's short._

_of course, whatever you want x_

Michael just kind of wants to cry.

 

They pull up at the hotel they're staying at over the night. It's just early evening, so they've got plenty of time, but even if they've all stayed in a bus all day, everyone's pretty much beat. They trudge up to the hotel, and Michael's sharing with Ashton, but he disappears off with Josh pretty fast so it's just him left. He lays down on the bed, and wonders how every life decision he has made has gotten him to this point.

He's still dead beat on the thought that he's going to murder whoever told his secret to Harry – and, as if summoned, there's a knock on the door. He gets up and opens the door, quite frankly expects it to be Ash, and therefore can only stare when it's Harry.

“Hi,” Harry says, running a hand through his hair and smiling at him, looking tired.

“Hi,” Michael squeaks and goes beet red. Harry only grins in amusement.

“Can I come in?” he asks, and Michael lets him in, but is a bit tentative about closing the door. He does so either way, and sits down on the edge of his bed. Harry leans against the wall opposite him and seems to regard him.

“Did I say anything wrong today?” he asks at last.

Michael flounders for a bit, because he doesn't understand how on earth he can think so. If anyone were to have said anything wrong, it would be Michael, not Harry, but Harry actually looks worried and Michael realises he has to actually say something.

“No,” he replies quickly. “No, you didn't. I, just... I don't know. Who told you?”

“You, sorta,” Harry says. “Well, no, Lou did, said he was feeling sorry for you because I was being an idiot. And I guess he was right, because when I finally did start looking, it was kind of obvious?”

A smile tugs at his lips, and he looks sheepish. “I'm sort of oblivious, I'm sorry.”

Michael stares, gapes just a little, and tries to figure out if this is actually happening or if he's having another dream.

“It's okay?” He doesn't mean for it to come out as a question, but he's a little bit confused. “But perhaps a little bit? Everybody were saying they knew, and it's been rather long since it first started...”

He trails off because he doesn't know how to continue.

“How long?” Harry asks him.

Michael hesitates. “I'm honestly not quite sure. By March, at least. It happened kind of fast.”

He likes to think he's being extremely calm for someone who is freaking out on the inside.

“That long?” Harry honestly looks surprised, and a little sad, and Michael can only nod.

Harry sighs and motions at the bed. “Can I sit?”

Michael scoots over, and Harry takes a seat next to him.

“I'm really sorry I never noticed,” he says. “Like... I'm never good at seeing things like that, and you must've had an awful time because I've sort of been all over you, haven't I? I wasn't lying when I said I was flattered, though.”

“I've been all over you too,” Michael blurts. “I was trying to be sneaky.”

Harry snorts a bit, but not mockingly. “Hard to be sneaky when I don't see things that are right in front of me,” he replies and smiles, and Michael glances at him and smiles a bit, too.

Harry sighs eventually. “I'm not going to lie, you're... you're kind of stupidly attractive.” He grins. “And I know I like everyone, but I kind of like you a little more.”

Michael looks at him and scowls.

“You're just saying that so I won't feel too bad.”

Harry frowns. “I'm not,” he says, actually looks a little hurt at the assumption, “I'm being honest. Just ask Lou, or Niall.”

Michael hesitates. He's had girlfriends before, who have been with him out of pity. He thinks Harry is different, but he's wary anyway, because Harry hasn't acted like he fancies him in the slightest.

“Promise?” he asks. “That you're not just stringing me on?”

“Promise,” Harry says, voice warm but firm. “I'll even pinky promise.”

He holds out his pinky, and Michael laughs a little as he hooks them together.

“Do you want to try this, then?” Harry asks after a moment. “Liking each other?”

“Of course I do, do I look stupid?” Michael asks, but frowns when Harry considers. “Hey.”

Harry laughs and lays back on the bed and pats the spot next to him. Michael lays back, too, and Harry rolls onto his side, facing him.

“Then we'll try it.”

They spend the rest of the evening just talking and joking and laughing, and Michael thinks it's great. They still don't act any different, it doesn't even _feel_ different, but maybe that's what liking someone is like.

 

 

They're not boyfriends, but Michael thinks that's alright. He still only has a crush on Harry, still just likes him a lot, and even if Harry likes him back they're taking things slow. They don't kiss, or anything, but one time Harry slipped his fingers through his, and since then hand-holding has become their thing. Never in plain sight, but when they're alone, sitting together with a little space between, just enough for their hands to fit there. It's nice, the way Michael can run his thumb over the back of Harry's hand, and the way Harry sometimes squeezes lightly.

The others catch on pretty fast, though, and try to bother them as much as possible, overly teasing. It should be annoying, but it isn't, because Michael is just _happy_. It's like a bubble has wrapped around him.

The first time they kiss is after a show in Washington. It's not something spectacular, not something that sets off fireworks. It's just Michael coming off the stage with the other three and Harry brushing by as they get ready, kissing him quick and short and sweet and smiling at him before he goes on. Michael doesn't even register it, really, not until he realises Calum, Ashton and Luke are all staring at him.  
“What?” he asks, confused.

“He just kissed you. I thought you said you hadn't done that yet?”

Michael pauses and reaches up to touch his lips, and Calum snorts at him.

“Really? _Really_ , Mikey?”

“I didn't think about it...” Michael says, and now he suddenly feels like going after Harry for a proper kiss, one that he'll feel for a while. That hardly counts as a first kiss between them, it was a peck, and he frowns until the boys come back for a change of clothes. He frowns especially hard when Harry looks at him, and Harry pauses in changing his t-shirt, frowning right back.

“What?” he asks, as he pulls the t-shirt over his head.

Michael crosses his arms.

“You kissed him really poorly, mate,” Niall says with a grin as he leans in, and how does Niall know everything? Michael would really like the answer to that.

Realisation seems to dawn on Harry. “Oh,” he says, but he doesn't really have time to do much else before he has to go back on stage, so he mouths a quick 'sorry' before he has to go. Michael wonders if that's how this is going to work from now on.

He doesn't really have to worry, though, because once the show is proper over and they're all winding back down from the adrenaline rush, Harry practically drags him down the hall. Louis cat-calls after them, and Harry flips him off over his shoulder. They walk until they find an empty room and Harry pulls him inside and shuts the door firmly, before he's pushing Michael up against it.

This was honestly not what he expected, and he stares at Harry who merely grins back.

“Didn't kiss you properly, did I?” he asks, cheeky, and Michael finds himself snorting.

“Not even remotely. Womaniser Harry Styles, ladies and gentlemen-”

Harry kisses him, and Michael's breath catches in his chest. It takes a moment before he's able to kiss back, and it's slightly dry, but then Harry pulls back to lick his lips and goes right back into it, and it's slow and deep and right and Michael's eyes slip shut.

Harry pulls back far too soon and Michael makes grabby hands at him until he complies and moves back in, kissing him again, and again, tiny pecks all around his face before going to his lips.

“Is that better then?” he asks. He sounds amused, and Michael considers pouting, but he can't be bothered.

“A lot.” he says instead and smiles up at him, and Harry smiles back and takes his hand, squeezing it.

“We should go back.”

Michael doesn't really want to, wants to stay like this for a while and just listen to Harry's voice, but that's not really a good idea. So he just nods and keeps hold of Harry's hand as they walked back.

“About time,” Liam says when they find them, but he's smiling.

“Did you snog?” Ashton asks.

“Did you have sex?” Niall adds. Zayn smacks his shoulder.

Niall frowns. “Hey, it's a sensible question.”

“And the answer to it is obvious.”

Harry rolls his eyes at his bandmates and holds Michael's hand until they have to part at the cars taking them back to the hotel, kisses his cheek before they part ways outside the elevator, and sends him a text message before he goes to sleep.

Michael is content.

 

 

Between Philadelphia and Mansfield, Michael somehow ends up on One Direction's bus. He doesn't really think anybody of them – with the exception of Harry – notices, until Zayn does a double take and Calum's sending him increasingly frantic texts ( _where r u??? did we leave u in philly??? mikey, pls answer, hemmo's breaking down_ ).

“What are you doing here?” Zayn asks, as Michael taps out a reply to Calum ( _I'm fine, on 1d's bus, harry fixed it_ ). Harry smiles from where he's sitting next to him.

“We're spending time together.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Obviously. Did you clear this with anyone? Paul?”

“Of course I did,” Michael looks up to see Harry frowning. “I'm not dumb.”

Zayn merely sighs and retreats to the bunks.

“Are you sure it's okay?” Michael asks after a moment. Harry smiles at him and lays back on the couch, motioning for him to lay down, too. It's a hard fit, and he's half on top of him before he's comfortable.

“One hundred percent,” Harry tells him seriously. “I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't. I like having you around, and I know the other lads don't actually mind. They've been pestering, anyway.”

That reassures Michael somewhat, and he smiles down at him. Harry smiles back and tilts his head up, kissing him. Michael shifts so he can kiss him properly, and that's what they do for a while, laying there in silence, only pressing their lips together now and then. It's nice, and calming, and Michael makes himself forget about the fact that they're somewhere in the middle of America playing for thousands of people.

There's a sudden noise in the silence, a small click, but it gets their attention and they look up to see Louis stand over them, phone out.

“Lou,” Harry protests. “Don't do that.”

Louis only grins. “D'you think the fans would have a field day if I put that on twitter?” he asks, looking down at his phone.

“Management would, I'm sure,” Harry retorts. “Delete that.”

“Spoilsport,” Louis snorts at him. Michael finds himself smiling at their banter, but then Louis turns his attention to him.

“We're having a stop in about an hour or so, I think. Are you still staying here?”

Michael hesitates and glances at Harry, uncertain. Harry might want him here, but the others he doesn't know, and if he doesn't switch at this stop he's probably going to have to stay here until at least tomorrow morning. And he doesn't know if he's allowed to do that.

“Stay?” Harry asks. “If you want? I don't mind. And they won't.” He looks up at Louis, who only smiles. Michael hesitates still, so Harry pecks the corner of his mouth.

“I really, really want you to. We can cuddle, and ignore them.”

Michael has to laugh and nods, tucking his face in the side of Harry's neck, and it's kind of nice. He hears Louis snorts a bit, but when he has a quick look Louis is still smiling.

“Alright then, so you're staying. No sex, is all I ask, I would very much like to _sleep_ tonight.”

Harry snorts at him. “Like I haven't heard you...” he mutters, but trails off and grins instead. Louis makes an outrageous sound.

“I haven't done a thing,” he declares. “I am innocence itself on two legs, thank you very much Harold.”

Harry only laughs, and Louis stomps off, but Harry assures Michael that he isn't actually angry. They sit up and cuddle for a while, and Michael's just about asleep on his shoulder when Harry's phone goes off, a sharp noise that jerks him awake.

“Sorry,” Harry murmurs as he picks it up. It's a text from Louis, but Michael doesn't want to peek, looks away until Harry laughs and nudges him. When he looks up, it's the picture Louis took, and he has to smile. They must've just kissed, and there's a ridiculously fond smile on Harry's face, and a smaller, happy one on Michael's, and it's just sweet, a cliché moment he doesn't think of as ridiculous, for once.

Harry sets it as his background, and Michael relaxes once more to take a nap.

 

 

That night they curl up in Harry's bunk. It's a tight fit and Michael briefly considers moving back to the couch to sleep there, but they manage to mold together at last, and Michael sighs, comfortable with Harry's arm slung over his side where he's spooning up behind him.  
“No sex,” Niall warns before he tugs the curtain shut to his bunk. “If I hear any inappropriate noises I'm kicking both of ye to the curb.”

Harry huffs out a laugh behind him and it tickles the back of Michael's neck, and he shivers a little.

“Shut the curtain, yeah?” Harry murmurs, and Michael does. They're silent for a while, and he wonders how good the others' hearing are, before he finally whispers.

“Does it bother you?”

Harry makes a small noise behind him. “Does what bother me?”

“Sex,” Michael clarifies, trying to ignore the embarrassment that's slowly rising, his face heating up. “Does it bother you that we haven't, like...”

He really hopes his voice is low enough for only Harry to hear. They should probably not be having this conversation right now.

“Hey,” Harry murmurs, tugs lightly on his arm until he manages to manoeuvre around so they're face to face. “How long have you been worrying about this?”

_Ages_ , Michael thinks. “A while.” he says, and Harry sighs.

“No, it doesn't bother me,” he says at last. “Like... that's not the vital part? I can get by without until you're ready.”

“Yeah,” Michael mumbles. “But... I mean, I'm not a virgin, but... but I feel like you don't like that we're not all over each other the moment we can.”

This is embarrassing, really, really very so, and he hides his face in Harry's chest. He can feel Harry smile into his hair and run a hand down his back, and it's comforting.

“No, Michael. Don't think that, alright? Sex'll come when we're both alright with it. I don't want to force you into anything, especially when you haven't been with a guy before. Okay? We don't have to get straight to the fucking, anyhow, there's a lot of other things to it than that. And I have my hand until then.”

He has to chuckle, and Harry does the same. “Okay, if you're really sure.”

“Hundred and ten percent,” Harry promises. “More than that, even. Just. Talk to me, okay? If you're thinking about something and want an answer. I'll be willing to answer no matter what.”

Michael nods, then yawns. “Okay. Can we sleep?”

“Of course.”

He feels lips press against his forehead and he smiles, sufficiently reassured, and it makes it easier to let sleep come.

 

 

They go back and forth between the US and Canada throughout July, and when Michael gets his first handjob from Harry – from a guy, ever – in Vancouver, he guesses he's one of few to ever do that. Well, if you ignore the Canadians. There's not actually that much to it, just quick fumbles backstage or on the tour buses whenever one of them is staying over on the other's, and they have to be quiet – which, he realises, Harry is awful at, at least if Ashton's beet red face has a say when they come out of the tiny tour bus bathroom after a quick tumble and finds him standing outside.

They spend a lot of the time getting to know each other when they travel. Michael finds himself enjoying to listen to Harry speak, even when he drawls and struggles to complete a sentence at normal speed. He doesn't mind waiting, because he figures it just means that Harry wants to get whatever he's trying to say right, and that means a lot, that he's not saying all the wrong things just because he wants to rush. When he tells Harry this, the smile he gets in return could light up an entire city, he's sure of it.

August comes around and they're almost at the end of the American leg – which means they have a bloody long break before they head off to Australia. He's not sure what Harry's going to do during that break, but he knows he's going home himself, to Australia to stay there until the boys join them. Over a month. It's kind of... he doesn't really know what to feel. They've been coped up together for ages, but he thinks a month without seeing them – without seeing Harry – all of a sudden is going to be weird. Empty, even.

So he comes home and he does the thing he's very good at. He pines. (Luke's words, not his)

“For goodness sake, Mikey,” Calum mutters. “You've got the guy's number. Text him, call him, have phone sex in the fuck-all of the morning. But please, please don't revert back to moping about like the end is nigh.”

“I'm not sure if that's how that sentence is supposed to go,” Michael points out, but Calum only glares a little at him so he retreats back to his room so he won't have to see.

He does manage to not be as bad, because yes, he can text Harry and ask him outrageous things like _can you buy a kilos worth of Vegemite when you get to the airport whenever it is you're coming_ or _harry harry can I lick your face_. Harry's responds with _he is richest who is content with the least, for content is the wealth of nature._ Michael would agree, if he knew what that was supposed to mean.

 

 

The doorbell rings at some insane hour in the morning. Michael is tempted to ignore it and make someone else get up to open, but he doubts neither Calum, Luke or Ash even heard it, so he forces himself up and downstairs, stumbling on the edge of the carpet before he regains his balance. He yawns and opens the door, glaring sleepily at whoever it is.

It's Harry. Of course it's Harry. Harry with his dumb curls and earnest smile and an armful of the largest jar of Vegemite he's ever seen.

“I come bearing gifts,” Harry says and holds it out, and Michael slowly accepts it, but continues to stare. To be honest, he wasn't even aware that the airport tax free even _had_ kilo jars of this stuff.

“I'm sorry it's so early,” he continues, and hoists his bag further up on his shoulder, “but the plane left when it did and I can't really control that.”

Michael wordlessly lets him in, and Harry steps past him, dragging a suitcase behind him. “The other lads are coming later sometime,” Harry chatters on as he makes himself right at home, dumping down in the living room couch. “I hope it's okay I came a bit early?”

Michael doesn't answer at first, goes into the kitchen to deposit the jar and then stepping into the living room to get a good look at him. He looks hopeful, but also tired, even if he hides it well. Michael feels a pang of love for this boy now suddenly in his home and nods, then holds out his arms. Harry stands immediately and steps into them, hugging him tightly, and he hugs right back.

“I wanted to see you,” Harry murmurs, nosing into his hair. “I missed you, which is probably ridiculous.”

“Only a bit,” Michael mumbles into his neck. “But I missed you too.”

They go upstairs and fall into bed, and Harry cuddles up to him, mumbling into his shoulder about how he _missed him so much_ and how he _really really likes him_ and that he _hopes Michael will show him around the neighbourhood when they've got the time_. Michael nods, only half coherent when he responds with _yes, yes, anything,_ and falls asleep.

He sleeps better than he has in ages, and only realises it when he wakes up hours later to Harry showering his cheeks and lips with kisses.

 

 

He gives his first blowjob that evening, letting Harry guide him with murmured words and a warm palm to his cheek. He thinks he should feel slightly patriotic over this, be all _welcome back to Australia, Styles,_ but he isn't sure if Harry'll be that amused. He finds himself giggling over it anyway, hiding his face in Harry's thigh, and it earns him a strange look.

“Is it that fun, sucking my cock?” Harry asks, a small grin at his lips, and Michael grins right back.

“Maybe.”

He decides to hell with it and tells him what he was thinking about, and Harry laughs until he's red in the face and short of breath.

 

 

Everything comes to an end all too soon. The Australia/New Zealand leg is over before it's barely started and then One Direction are off to Japan, and 5 Seconds of Summer are not. The two of them have managed to get a hotel room together in Melbourne, because Liam was nice enough to go and share with Calum, and it's only them, all showered and ready for bed after a spectacular show.

“Final date for us tomorrow,” Michael says, sitting on the edge of the bed, and it reminds him a lot about how it was when the two of them started out so long ago, somewhere in America.

Harry nods.

“Yeah. Wish you could come to Japan with us.”

Michael wonders why he feels like there's some sense of finality to this conversation, even when it's barely started.

“You, uh... you're gonna head back to England, then, right after you've been there?”

Harry looks up at him and considers for a moment. “Was thinking of that.” he says. “Do... do you want to come with?”

“No, I'm gonna stay behind here,” Michael replies. “I want to see my family for a bit more, and my friends.”

Harry nods and smiles. “Of course,” he says. “Family is important.”

“Yeah.”

Michael hesitates, before deciding _to hell with it_ and blurts out, “you're important, too.”

Harry actually looks surprised, but then he smiles wider, and Michael soon finds himself wrapped up in his arms.

“We'll meet up soon, though?” Harry asks. “I would like that a lot, if you do.”

Michael laughs, a little, relieved. “So we're not breaking up?”

Harry pulls back to frown down at him. “Break up?” he asks, and sounds almost offended, looking slightly worried and quite a bit confused. “Why would we do that?”

“No, I was just... I thought, maybe, you wouldn't want anything, after the tour ends. You've got lots of friends back in England, and-”

Harry kisses him to cut him off.

“We're not breaking up,” he says when he pulls back, running a hand over Michael's hair. “I don't want to, and you don't want to. Right?”

“Right,” Michael answers and smiles. “Then I want that.”

Harry blinks.

“To meet up soon,” he clarifies quickly, and Harry grins and kisses him again.

“I'll get you something from Japan,” he promises, and Michael nods and hugs him, perfectly content.

 

 

Harry texts him when they land.

_do you know what you want yet? .x_

Michael's thought long and hard about it, but there's really only one thing he could possibly want at this point.

_get me one of those dresses with slits up to the thigh. I demand it's black_

_twat .x_ Harry responds, but Michael can practically hear the fondness through the screen, and he chuckles as he texts again.

_bring me you and we'll call it a deal_

Harry's answer is practically immediate, and Michael smiles so hard his cheeks hurt, feeling the same warm, fuzzy feeling that's been connected to anything Harry-related for a good nine months and then some.

_anything for you .xx_

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I was thinking to be honest. I feel like I dragged this out too much and I should probably have ended it while I was still in the game but then I just wanted to add about three dozen scenes of them being fluffy instead... so I did.
> 
> I should probably just stick to the porn.


End file.
